


Would You Be So Kind?

by Cat (ActualBuckyBarnes)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spaceboy!Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 20:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8637613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualBuckyBarnes/pseuds/Cat
Summary: Mark's lungs ache whenever he casts a glance in his direction, a foreign feeling that lights his heart on fire and chokes his lungs on smoke. It's agony, it's bliss. Mark feels so torn, a thousand poetic thoughts threatening to burst forth from his mouth, but he has to reign them in. To do so feels like he's pressing a hot iron to his throat.
God, he thinks, Felix was right, I'm a love-stricken puppy.Mark's thoughts twisted trough him, bittersweet, of Jack's words.And he couldn't even drink away the pain. The irony was going to kill him if this crush didn't first.





	

Mark's a writer. His specialty has always been staring off into his mind, dreaming up worlds that have yet to exist.

And he's never been more captivated by something so _real_. He's always one for places made of stardust and smoke, and for the first time in a long time, something made of flesh and bone has wormed its way into his life.

And that something's name is Jack.

They had met about a year ago. Mark was sure they were getting close to the first year of them knowing one another, actually.

* * *

_Mark has always taken the long way. The scenic routes let his mind wander, and he could envision great beasts lurking in the shadows, features just waiting to be etched out onto a page._

_Mark came across the spot he'd been searching for. A group of boulders, each as large as a house. Mark scaled one, pack resting on his shoulder as his muscles strained. Mark sat on top of the rocks, ready to grab a notebook, sketchbook, anything out of his backpack, when he was interrupted._

_"I thought I was the only one insane enough to get up here at three in the morning."_

_Mark spun around, heart nearly jumping out of his throat when he slipped. He braced himself, ready to fall, but the feeling never came. A hand had wrapped itself around Mark's ankle, and Mark blushed as he found his seat again._

_"Ye gotta be careful up here," The voice said, a man with an Irish accent laughing at Mark's clumsiness. Mark scanned over the stranger, who was lit by a flashlight. His hair was grey-brown, and his eyes were cerulean. Like the sky. They reminded Mark of the time he tried dance._

_"Shut up," Mark said, interrupting his own thoughts, "Why_ are _you here at three in the morning?"_

_"Best time to look at the stars," The Irish man next to him said, voice almost breathless, "Ye'd think it'd be harder to find a place to stargaze in California, but here we are. Honest, I would've brought my telescope if it weren't so fragile."_

_"Why are you on my rock?" Mark asked, slightly miffed._

_"_ Yer _rock?" The Irish man laughed, "I thought this was public property!"_

_"Well, nobody else ever comes out here," Mark said sheepishly, "Especially not when the crazy recluse writer is out here."_

_"I'm assumin' that's-"_

_"Me. Yep." Mark pursed his lips, "But hey, we all have our shortcomings, don't we?"_

_"Guess so," The Irish man shrugged._

_"What's your name, anyway?" Mark asked, curious._

_"Sean, but most people call me Jack. What's yers?" The Irish man replied._

_"Mark. Get off my goddamn rock," Mark said, half-joking. Jack laughed, so Mark went along with it. He really didn't want to give up any single moment of his alone time, even if this stranger did seem interesting._

_"I'm... gonna go back to my house. Goodbye." Mark shrugged his backpack back onto his shoulders, starting to climb off the boulder._

_"Wait!" Jack said, "Where can I find ye?"_

_"Maybe in town," Mark shrugged. To be honest, he was about as interested in keeping company with Jack as he was with giving up his houseplants and pet cat, Mickey._

_"Wanna go for a pint sometime?" Jack yelled._

_"I'm allergic to alcohol, sorry!" Mark yelled back, starting to jog back to his house. Mark wasn't going to lie, he was in excellent shape, but by the time he'd jogged the whole two miles back to his house, his legs were burning and his lungs felt full of knives. He was used to it, though, after years of trying new exercise regiments, which all ultimately fell flat on their faces. At least Mark knew how to give a good lapdance from all of that._

_Mark arrived at his house. He was really the only one left in the suburban neighborhood, excluding eighty-year-old Mrs. Buckley, but Mark didn't think she could move away if she wanted to. His house was nice, if a bit old. The rooms had been a bit too small for his liking, but after Mark had taken a few walls down, it was nice and open. Mark had actually renovated the whole place in his time living there. He'd painted the walls baby blue, replaced the furniture, and stocked up on books and paintings. It wasn't much, but it was his. The one-story house in the ghost town neighborhood in the middle of Nowhere, California._

_Mark opened the door, and a mostly black cat with a few white patched came barreling towards him._

_"Hello Mickey," Mark cooed to the long-haired cat, stroking his head, "Met a nice guy at the Elephant Rock today."_

_Mickey gave him a strange look._

_"I did_ not _get his number, I don't want to be friends with him," Mark said, "For crying out loud, he's straight! All the good ones are, y'know."_

_Mickey growled at him. Mark put some food in his bowl and continued to talk._

_"Well, there was that one guy who was aroace," Mark said, retracting his previous statement, "Either way, Sean definitely isn't attracted to me."_

_Mickey gave Mark a look from the food bowl._

_"You're right," Mark sighed, "He... yeah... I should've at least offered to be friends. Now he probably thinks I'm an antisocial loser who does nothing but brush other people off."_

_Mickey made a sound that Mark interpreted as a laugh._

_"Okay, that might be a little more accurate than I'm willing to admit, fuck you, Mickey," Mark said, picking up a laptop and staring at the screen for a while. After about thirty minutes of absolutely nothing, Mark groaned and shut his laptop._

_"Goddammit,_ this _is why I go to Elephant Rock," Mark grumbled, "Stupid Irish guy with his stupid grey hairs and his stupid cute lips and his dumb pretty eyes."_

_Mickey gave Mark a knowing look._

_"Shut up, cat, I rescued you, you should be grateful," Mark said, narrowing his eyes at the feline, who just continued to give him a stare._

_Mark groaned again and rubbed his eyes with his palms._

_"Fine. I'll get his number the next time I see him. Are you happy?" Mark asked, and Mickey started purring, rubbing himself up against Mark's body._

_"Fluffy baby," Mark said sleepily, stroking the cat, deciding to throw in the towel and get some fucking sleep for once. He placed his laptop on the floor and Mickey jumped on top of Mark's stomach and purred loudly, stretching out. Mark fell asleep like that, Mickey's soft body draped across his abs._

* * *

The day after that, Mark tried to go back to the rock, turning around immediately when he saw the silhouette of a man with a telescope, staring off into the stars. Mark knew he couldn't fall for him, a kind man who liked to look at the sky. It would break his heart to look his way. Every goddamn time. 

* * *

His editor and publisher, Felix, had some very choice words for him when he tried to relay the situation over to him.

 _"You_ idiot _! Din fitte, why the fuck didn't you get his number? Jesus fucking Christ, I'm not getting another chapter for a year, am I?"_ Felix groaned over the phone.

"Calm _down_ ," Mark rolled his eyes, making himself a sandwich.

 _"I will not_ calm down _!"_ Felix said, and Mark could hear him jazz-handing him through the phone, _"You've got too many deadlines to go pining after some spud-lover!"_

"Listen, I'm not going to _pine_ after him," Mark said, "You are a bigger bitch baby than me and Mickey combined. And he still hasn't forgiven me for switching cat food brands on him."

 _"Apologize to him,"_ Felix demanded, _"Get his number, ask if he's single, take him on dates and live happily-fucking-ever-after."_

" _Fine_!" Mark yelled, "You win! I'll go apologize! Happy?"

 _"Very,"_ Felix said, hanging up. Mark groaned, smacking the wall with his head. He would kill Felix if he had enough social skills to get another editor.

* * *

Mark guilt-tripped himself into apologizing about a week later. He waited until it was three in the morning, scaled the rock, and lo and behold, there sat Jack, gazing up at the night sky. He was wearing a cheesy NASA t-shirt and skinny jeans, which contrasted with Mark's sweater and bluejeans. The night was crisp and cold, the beginning of winter. Mark routinely stockpiled warm clothing, so he was very grateful for the chilly weather.

"Hey," Mark said softly. Jack looked up at Mark, sitting up and gazing at him. Mark assumed it was just because he was used to staring at things, not because he was drinking in Mark's features like Mark had wanted to do to Jack.

"Listen, I'm sorry for the way I treated you the first time we met here," Mark said, but Jack brushed it off.

"No, it's fine," He replied, "I was invadin' yer quiet time, ye told me that once and I still didn't move. I was all ready to get out o' yer way, but ye never showed up."

"I was busy," Mark shrugged. It wasn't a _complete_ lie, per say, but Mark just really didn't want to deal with the near-stranger just yet. He'd been working on his novel, about two best friends that fall in love and don't realize it. It's very funny, in Mark's opinion, and very gay. He likes it.

"With what? What do ye do for a livin'?" Jack asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.

"I'm a writer. Are you an astrologist or something?"

"First of all, it's astronomist. Astrologists are the arseholes who make up shit like horoscopes. Second of all, no, but I wish. I'm a tech guy at one o' those nine-to-five companies."

"You shouldn't be out here at three in the morning, then!" Mark said, "Get some sleep, Jesus fuck!"

"Lots and lots of coffee, my friend. It'll get ye far." Jack jokes, and Mark snickers because he knows that all too well. His mind completely skips over the fact that Jack called Mark his _friend_ , which was what he was specifically trying to avoid.

"Why'd you come here anyhow?" Mark asked, "Not... not the rock. The US."

"How do ye know I'm not actually from here?" Jack asked, "After all, I can do a perfect American accent." He said the last bit with a voice that did sound oddly American

"Okay, that was scary," Mark laughed, "And, fine, where are you from?"

"A small town outside Dublin," Jack grinned, and Mark growled at him.

"Where are ye from, then?" Jack asked, crossing his arms.

"Cincinnati," Mark replied, shrugging, "I came here to write. It was a smart decision, I've been able to finish about three novels in the four years I've been here." Again, not a complete lie. There were other reasons, but Mark was definitely not going to spill his whole life story to some cute Irish guy he barely knew.

"Ooh, what novels?" Jack asked.

"Um... ' _Little Did He Know_ ', ' _Small Giraffes_ ', and ' _Moral Gray Areas_ '," Mark listed off. Jack's eyes widened comically.

" _Small Giraffes_ is my favorite book!" Jack said, "I can't believe it... Mark Fischbach?"

"Yeah," Mark said, grateful for the darkness, as he was blushing, "Thanks."

"I could relate to Fern so much!" Jack smiled.

"You're a lesbian?" Mark smirked, and Jack shoved him jokingly.

"Nah, but I could definitely relate to feeling like an old face in the crowd, especially from back home," Jack grinned.

"Well, I'm glad," Mark smiled. He really did like it when other people said they liked his books.

"Do ye want my phone number?" Jack asked.

Mark knew he should say no, right? He knew he'd just fall into an endless spiral of crushing on this guy, getting worse and worse. It would end badly for both of them, and Mark would wind up regretting it all.

"Sure," Mark shrugged.

Jack's smile was worth it, Mark decided, as he got his phone out of his bag.

* * *

_Jack: what's your favorite color? [read, 9:41 AM]_

_**Mark: why do you need to know?** [read, 9:43 AM]_

_Jack: reasons. [read, 9:43 AM]_

_**Mark: red? i think? i don't really have one.** [read, 9:44 AM]_

_Jack: thanks! :D [read, 9:45 AM]_

Mark sighed, starting to type again. His newest novel was called _A Black Cat's Luck_. 

He and Jack had been texting back and forth for a while, and Jack was starting to get a sense for how little Mark actually went in public.

Mark's phone buzzed again.

_Jack: meet me at the Phantastic Coffeeshop? [read, 10:02 AM]_

**_Mark: i'm not really feelin up to it_ **

Mark erased what he had written and typed out 'sure, see you soon!' instead. He refused to let his antisocial tendencies get in the way of his and Jack's friendship. Even if he was starting to get a tiny crush on the blue-eyed man.

As it turned out, _Phantastic Coffeeshop_ was a quaint little place on the outskirts of LA, the kind of place that seemed so scenic it was ridiculous. Mark walked through the door to find a tall, blue-eyed man with jet black hair.

"Hi, I'm Phil, how can I help you?" The man asked. His nametag read _'Manager/Owner'_.

"Uh... I'll have the... what the hell is up with the names of your items?" Mark asked, squinting at the menu above Phil's head.

"Ask Dan, I have no idea," Phil deadpanned. Another man, a bit taller, with brown hair instead of black, traipsed into the main room, smiling from ear to ear. They looked to be polar opposites. Phil returned Dan's grin and Mark caught sight of two rings, glinting on their fingers. He was glad for them, but the sight made him a bit jealous.

"Sweetie, it's the 2011 branding, you can't argue with that," Dan said, pecking Phil on the cheek, "So... what do you want?"

"Um... I don't know," Mark smiled, "What do you suggest?"

"The Lion and Llama Hot Cocoa," Dan grinned back, "It's a house specialty."

"Mark!" A familiar voice called, and Mark spun around. His conflicted feelings left him with a wider grin on his face than he thought possible. Mark's name sounded like royalty coming off of Jack's tongue, he wanted to hear it all the time. He had to forcibly remind himself that Jack was off-limits. _Straight, Mark. He's straight._

"Hey, Jack!" Mark smiled brightly, hugging Jack and sitting down in a booth. Soon, Dan came around with two drinks, and Mark realized while he was being a complete idiot, Jack must have ordered.

"Well, how have you been?" Mark asked. There was something about he and Jack that had just _clicked_ over text messaging, and Mark was maybe just _slightly_ hoping that the little spark just wouldn't be there in real life. Maybe then, Mark would be able to get over his own damn self. Maybe Felix _did_ need to smack some sense into him.

"Great," Jack smiled, fiddling with his coffee, "How's the book going?"

"Slowly," Mark said, "I've run into a few roadblocks." It was a half-truth, the telling of which was a new habit Mark would have to snap himself out of. In reality, he was thinking. Thinking, but not writing. His mind was occupied with daydreams, which he hoped would go away, and soon.

"Ooh, do I get to offer to help the great Fischbach with his next work?" Jack asked, somewhat sarcastic.

"Shut up," Mark said playfully, sipping at his hot chocolate. The feelings that raged inside his stomach all but disappeared when he and Jack began to talk. They talked the day away inside their own little nook- well, it wasn't quite theirs, but it sure felt like it. They were stolen from their trance by the room turning golden around them. The sunset made the room turn gold, and it made Jack's eyes glow bright, like lanterns. It made Mark's eyes turn amber, and Mark was worried that they'd be so transparent that Jack would see right through him.

"I ought to be getting home," Mark said softly.

"Me too," Jack said, standing up to leave. A thought occurred to Mark, made him wonder.

"Wait," He said, "Sean, what did you want my favorite color for? You never answered me."

"No reason in particular," Jack said. That wasn't even a half-truth, Jack knew. Because, unbeknownst to Mark, there was a bouquet of red tulips sitting on Jack's dining room table.

* * *

Mark and Jack went back to the Elephant Rock often; in the early morning, it was the best place to be alone together. (Even if they weren't really together in the way both of them hoped.)

Mark would bring his sketchbook and a flashlight and Jack would bring his telescope, or, sometimes, just go to look at the stars. They daydreamed and talked idly, and sometimes Jack would show Mark a shitty poem he'd written or Mark would ask him where the constellations were. It was really nice.

Mark could feel himself falling, though. He felt his heart swell when he looked at Jack, and shatter when he realized Jack didn't feel the same way. 

* * *

One day, Jack sat at the Elephant Rock, and to Mark's dismay, he could see that Jack was crying.

"What's the matter?" Mark asked.

"Got- got fired," Jack replied, voice choked, "They didn' have enough money to keep as much personnel."

"That's horrible," Mark said, "Do you want a hug?"

Jack barreled into Mark's chest and the two sat there for a long time, Mark stroking Jack's hair and Jack blubbering into Mark's chest.

"I'm sorry," Jack sniffed, "I haven't been like this since... since..."

"Go ahead, take your time," Mark said soothingly, still carding his fingers through Jack's hair.

"Since my family kicked me out," Jack said, burying his face deeper still into Mark's chest.

"That's horrible," Mark repeated, "Really, really horrible. I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"Well, it's my fault for being a good ol' bisexual, now ain't it?" Jack said, and Mark's heart thudded in his chest.

"No. Never dismiss yourself for something you can't change," Mark nearly snarled, and Jack was shocked by the force behind his words, "It took me too long to learn that myself."

"There's a story behind this," Jack said, wiping his eyes and sitting up, "And I want to hear it."

"My dad wanted me to be an engineer," Mark said, starting down 'that' train of speech, "I... well... I didn't. I just didn't have it in me. But then, right before I went to college, my dad died. So I went to college to be an engineer. After a few months, my friend Felix smacked some sense into me, told me I wasn't happy. I told him I'd like to give writing a go, and he said he'd be glad to edit and publish my stories."

"The making of a legend," Jack grinned, going in for another hug from Mark. Suddenly, Mark felt his heart plummet. It was as if he'd crossed some boundary with Jack where every time Jack looked his way, his heart felt warmer and warmer, and the hug made it burst into flames.

Mark was all to happy and all too sad to be leaving.

* * *

Mark still hadn't returned to the Elephant Rock. He considered that the spot of his heartbreak, the place where he'd fallen in love.

And how he hesitated to use the word, but after a year, he knew it. What he didn't know, however, was the Jack hadn't returned to that spot either. He was afraid he'd see Mark, and he'd fall even further. Of course, Jack had gotten a different job, one where he was much happier, an aerospace test mechanic. Whatever the fuck that title meant.

To Mark, it felt like a thousand fires lit in his heart, choking his lungs on the smoke. He felt uncountable poetic thoughts race through his head, and yet he was unable to put them down on paper.

Then it occurred to him: _why didn't he?_

After all, it wouldn't be hard. So he started writing. He brought over a brand new journal, opening it up and writing down a line: _When I met him, the sky was as black as unsweetened coffee. But he was as bright as the sun._

Oh boy, Felix was going to have mixed feelings about this one.

* * *

Mark needed an escape. He loved his cat and all, but he just needed a place to go. He decided to brave Elephant Rock, picking up his bag and walking out.

"Don't eat the house, Mickey," Mark said, shutting the door behind him. Mickey gave a half-hearted meow as Mark walked away.

Soon, Mark found himself at the rock, gazing up to see if Jack was there. When Mark was greeted with no silhouette of him, he scaled the rock.

Usually the silence didn't bother him up there. Usually, he could forget his worries when he was so distanced from everything, but something felt off without Jack there.

"Hello?" Mark asked the darkness, which gave absolutely no helpful response.

"Sean?" Mark called.

Nothing.

Mark frowned, trying to write. He barely managed to get a few words out before he heard a noise, jumping and spinning around.

It was an owl. In a tree. A hundred feet away.

But Mark didn't know that, he was focused on something else. He knew he was going to fall, and he attempted to swing his legs around so they'd land, maybe that would fix things. Or not break them as badly.

Mark heard something snap when he landed and, although his left arm wasn't in pain, per say, it felt... wrong. Mark, being the self-proclaimed bitch baby that he was, refused to look at it, instead trying to fish his phone out of his pocket.

He pressed on Jack's icon, and his screen buzzed. Mark put the phone to his ear.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," Mark said, gritting his teeth. It was much too cold.

"Hello?" Jack said groggily, probably having been woken up by Mark's call.

"Sean," Mark breathed, teeth still gritted, "I fell off that big rock. I think I broke my arm, please come get me."

"Shit," Jack said, and Mark heard him scrambling, "I'm on my way. Hang on, Markimoo."

"Thank you so much," Mark said, daring to glance at his arm.

Boy, if he thought it _felt_ wrong...

Jack arrived not ten minutes later, jumping out and looking Mark up and down like a worried mother.

Mark struggled for a few minutes, trying to figure out how to get up, before Jack picked him up and half-carried, half-dragged him to the car.

"You don't have to do this," Mark grumbled, clutching his left arm to his chest. If anything, he felt giggly.

"Shut the fook up, yes I do," Jack said, and Mark let out a laugh.

"What the hell is it?" Jack asked, strapping Mark into their car.

"You say 'fuck' funny," Mark said.

"So? You say 'room' funny," Jack rebutted, driving towards the hospital.

"Solid burn," Mark said, grinning. If anything, this made Jack even more worried.

"Don't worry, we'll be there soon," Jack said, "God, Felix is going to slaughter us both."

"Look, my arm's all funny," Mark said, still giggling.

"I'd rather not," Jack winced, going a bit faster than completely necessary. Mark yelped when they hit a red light, and Jack vowed to go slow from then on.

"Sorry, sorry," Jack apologized.

"'feel kinda funny," Mark mumbled.

"That's the adrenaline," Jack said in reply. Mark shut his eyes, face ghostly pale, and he leaned over and rested his head on Jack's shoulder.

"You'll be fine," Jack said soothingly, "Did you hurt anything else when you fell?"

"No," Mark said, squeezing his eyes tighter. The adrenaline had stopped working just as quickly as it had started, and Mark was starting to regret his decisions. All of them.

Jack found a hospital in the city that was open, stopping in a parking spot.

"Think you can walk?" Jack asked, before shaking his head, not even giving Mark a chance to answer, "Never mind. I'm going to get you a wheelchair. Stay here."

As if Mark could go anywhere.

Jack took too long with the wheelchair. Mark decided it.

Jack helped Mark into the chair, pushing him along.

"Oh... l-look, I'm sh-haking," Mark said, jaw chattering too much for him to get many words out of his mouth.

"You're doing so well," Jack praised, "Keep it up."

Mark kept shaking until they got into the ER.

"He broke his arm," Jack said, and the receptionist winced.

"Right. We don't have very many people right now, so it won't be too long. Take him right in here," The lady said, motioning to the examination room.

"Thank you," Jack said, smiling. Mark was curled in on himself, sleepy but too awake to actually fall asleep.

"Name?" Another lady, a brunet with golden eyes said.

"Mark Fischbach," Jack said, spelling out Mark's last name.

"Age?" 

"26."

The lady asked a lot of questions, and Jack answered all of them.

"Have you been sexually active lately?"

"No," Mark answered this one, and the lady gave them a skeptical look, but wrote it down anyway.

"We're not together," Jack said hurriedly, "Just friends."

It took all Mark had not to sigh bitterly. _Just friends_. And that was all they would ever be.

"Okay, well, the waiting room's that way," The doctor said, pointing to the nearly empty room.

"Thank you," Jack said, wheeling Mark into the room.

* * *

An eternity of waiting later, and Mark's name was called.

"Ah, hello," The doctor said, "We'll situate you on a bed and get back to you in a bit."

"Thank you," Jack said. Mark was starting to get tired, but the pain kept him awake.

"Jack, I feel like I'm dying," Mark admitted.

"I assure you that's not happening," Jack replied, brushing the hair out of Mark's face.

Mark's memory was fuzzy. There were a lot of people all talking at once, and they stuck something in Mark's right arm, and Jack was looking surprised, and Mark was told he'd be going to sleep...

And then he remembered his arm feeling warm. He slowly returned to consciousness, looking around to see the room swimming. He'd probably been put on morphine.

"Hi, Sean," Mark said, lips numb. His brain was still a bit off because of the medication, and the only thing floating through his mind was _'I bet Jack looks really pretty.'_

And then that statement was out of his mouth. Jack looked mildly amused.

"Are my lips working?" Mark asked, laughing.

"Yes, yes they are," Jack grinned. Mark couldn't tell what was staying inside his head and what was flying out his mouth-

And then it happened.

"Ja-ack. I love you," Mark heard himself say in a singsong voice. 

"You- what?" Jack asked, shocked.

"Night." Mark fell back asleep. The room was still spinning.

When he woke up, he remembered none of it.

* * *

It took Mark almost all eight weeks to realize that Jack was acting oddly.

"What's up with you?" He asked one morning, on the phone while frying some fish.

 _"Nothing,"_ Jack said. Mark didn't quite believe it. He had to have his arm in a cast for eight weeks, and then he had to wear a brace, so no exercise for him. He felt completely useless, sitting there and wallowing in his loneliness- Jack seemed to be staying away on purpose, saying he was busy when Mark tried to get him to go somewhere.

Mark thought that maybe Jack was trying to stop talking to him. Of course, when he tried to talk to Felix about that, he was immediately dismissed.

Felix: You are actually insane. Of course he likes you, he's practically throwing himself at you. _[read, 7:52 PM]_

_**Mark: well, it certainly doesn't seem that way.** [read, 7:53 PM]_

_Felix: You're crying over a tub of ice-cream, aren't you? [read, 7:53 PM]_

_**Mark: no, of course not.** [read, 7:55 PM]_

_Felix: Lies. [read, 7:56 PM]_

_**Mark: i'm really not! i'm eating chicken and watching Netflix.** [read, 7:56 PM]_

_Felix: sure you are ;) [read, 7:58 PM]_

_**Mark: fuck off, felix.** [read, 8:00 PM]_

_Felix: AS SOON AS YOU TEXT HIM AND TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT. [read, 8:02 PM]_

_**Mark: fine. fuck you.** [read, 8:04]_

_Felix: ew, i have a girlfriend, you sicko. [read, 8:05 PM]_

Mark groaned, rolling over in his bed. After Jack had left- after babying Mark for a week straight- his texts had gotten more and more distant. Cut to eight weeks later- Mark wondered if he'd said something when he was on morphine.

_**Mark: hey, listen man. we haven't talked in a while. did i say something?** [read, 9:09 PM]_

Mark waited for a reply. And waited. And waited and waited and waited.

He thoroughly blamed his arm. If his arm hadn't broken, he wouldn't be stuck like this for so long, he wouldn't have done _whatever it was that he did_ to mess up him and Jack and he wouldn't be on the verge of tears.

The doorbell rang. Mark wiped off his face, and walked to the porch, where he saw familiar baby blue eyes and greyish hair.

"Jack?" Mark asked, surprised.

"You were crying," Jack said, equally surprised, and Mark made an effort to hide his face, "I've never been more sorry."

 _Well, you could've just said so_ , Mark thought bitterly.

"Listen, remember when you said red was your favorite color?" Jack asked, smiling slightly.

"Yeah? And?" Mark asked, crossing his arms. The one he'd broken was in a brace, but it was healing just fine.

"And the first time we went to meet, at the cafe," Jack said, taking a deep breath, "I'd wanted to bring a bouquet of tulips, but I chickened out at the last minute. I wanted to bring ye some flowers this time, but I decided roses would be a bit better."

Jack handed over the fresh-smelling flowers, and Mark took them.

"Roses mean love," Jack mumbled, and before he could get another word out, Mark's lips were on his. Jack brought a hand up to cup Mark's jaw, and Mark moved his mouth against Jack's. Every single feeling Mark had felt towards him, every ounce of doubt, dropped away from his stomach and he sighed, feeling his heart swell like a balloon.

"God, that felt nice," Mark said, and Jack went in for another kiss. 

"I have waited so long for this," Jack said, "Ever since the first time we met on the rock."

"Me too," Mark said, "God, how lucky did we get?"

"Ridiculously so," Jack smiled fondly, "Even more than Dan and Phil, from the cafe."

"Really? I don't think they were so emotionally constipate to hold on to their emotions for a year and two months before finally spilling," Mark laughed.

"Fine. But I have you now, therefore I win," Jack rebutted, and Mark muttered a small 'touche.'

"Well, I'm still going to have the constant threat of death hanging over my head thanks to Felix," Mark smiled, "Maybe I'll take a break when he finally grows a pair and asks Marzia the big question."

"Speaking of which," Jack said, "What's the WiFi password?"

"You _asshole_ ," Mark laughed, "You had me scared for a moment! I thought you were actually going to ask me to marry you! I mean, I love you and all, but..."

"Yeah, I think that would be a really bad idea right now too," Jack said, "But you changed the fookin' WiFi password. What is it?"

"It's mickeygetlost," Mark shrugged, "A passive-aggressive message towards my cat."

"Got it," Jack nodded, "Now, Felix tells me you were violently sobbing into a bucket of ice-cream?"

"I am going to kill his toad," Mark said jokingly, "Right in front of him. Make him suffer."

"You do that, sweetie," Jack grinned crookedly at Mark, who shoved him lightly.

"Ooh, real threatening, with your rose bouquet and your semi-broken arm," Jack laughed.

"Shut up," Mark said, still smiling.

* * *

Mark needed this day to be special. The weight of the ring wore his pocket down more than the bookbag ever did to his shoulders, the brand new book in his hands making them shake. It had been five years since he'd broken his arm, but it felt raw, with the book weighing it down.

The ring wasn't even that expensive. In fact, Mark had had his friend make it out of a branch he'd found on the forest floor. It would be worth more to both of them like that than any special rock ever would.

The book, on the other hand, had cost Mark something much more than money. He'd been keeping it a secret from everybody except Felix and Jack- but Jack just thought he was writing a regular book. The book felt like Mark had taken a piece of his soul and written it out, put it down on paper and solidified it.

"Sean, babe," Mark said, poking his boyfriend's face, "Wake up."

"It's three in the fookin' morning, Mark, what the fook do you want?" Jack asked grumpily.

"We're going on an adventure," Mark said, dragging his boyfriend out of bed with the promise of breakfast in bed at the end of it.

"Mark, are we going to-" Jack was cut off by Mark pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Yeah," Mark grinned. His heart was hammering in his chest as they rounded the corner to see Elephant Rock in all its glory, the top dotted with fairy lights.

"Wow," Jack said, awestruck.

"Come 'ere!" Mark said, pulling Jack up the boulder.

"It's gorgeous up here," Jack sighed, resting his head on Mark's shoulder.

"I have something to show you," Mark said, "Well... I have something to read to you."

"Yer new book?" Jack inquired. Mark nodded his head, smiling from ear-to-ear.

"This is dedicated to my partner Sean," Mark said, "About whom I wrote every single word, and to whom I shall have an infinity more."

"When I met him, the sky was as bleak and dark as a cold cup of unsweetened coffee. He was as radiant as the sun, with eyes like the sky. I fell head-over-heels into his arms, and I was so caught up in his smell and how his hair felt that I failed to see that he liked me back..."

* * *

By the time Mark had finished the first poem, Jack had tears in his eyes.

"That... Mark, that was beautiful," Jack said, "I don' deserve that."

"This one's called _My Name_ ," Mark said in reply, "Whenever he says my name, I feel like royalty. It makes me feel like I'm flying, makes me feel so loved I don't know what to do with it. Of course, that's only my real name. Don't get me started on the ones he's picked out for me."

"Mark," Jack sighed, pressing his lips to Mark's, bringing his face back a millimeter to say,  "I want to hear every goddamn word in that book."

"Okay," Mark said, flipping to the back of it, "This one's called ' _Question_ '."

"Mornings sent golden light to me, making him appear angelic. Already, I can hear him stirring next to me, his hair pressed against my shoulder. Regret is never something I feel, in the early morning, laying next to you. Remember that time when we danced to Dodie Clark and you told me you loved me? You certainly do, and right now, it's playing through my head as I drink in your features. My heart swells and I have one question that plagues my mind right now. Everyone lives at some point, and you're that person for me."

Mark got down on one knee, grabbing the ring from his pocket and putting the book down.

"Jack, will you marry me?" Mark asked, and Jack looked down at the beginnings of crow's feet sprouting on Mark's worried face.

"Yes," Jack breathed, "God. Yes."

Mark's lips always felt the same against Jack's. They felt like home. And this time was no different.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! here's a link to my [Tumblr](http://llamaswithbeanies.tumblr.com/), feel free to check it out!


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